


Marquise Diamond

by AdelaCathcart



Series: Request Fics [7]
Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Daemon Touching, Multi, Semi-Public Sex, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29729211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelaCathcart/pseuds/AdelaCathcart
Summary: Stelmaria is a human man in every respect but one, and so while the scent of a woman’s cunt might be of little interest to a real snow leopard, to her own sensitive nose it is nothing short of arresting.
Relationships: Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter, Marisa Coulter & Stelmaria
Series: Request Fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029141
Comments: 11
Kudos: 17





	Marquise Diamond

Stelmaria is a human man in every respect but one, and so while the scent of a woman’s cunt might be of little interest to a real snow leopard, to her own sensitive nose it is nothing short of arresting. Women are not normally welcome at gatherings of this sort, but callow Edward Coulter had misread the invitation, and his wife was so irresistably charming that once she’d appeared no one would hear of his sending her home. By the time Asriel arrives wearing the same traveling clothes he’d slept in, they’re just retiring to the smoking lounge, where ladies are not permitted. He has only to call for his meal and tell the men not to linger on his account, and he is left alone with Mrs. Coulter in the dining room of the Prime Minister’s club, and his dæmon is sniffing up her skirt.

They cannot pretend not to know each other, of course, but nor can they afford to be too friendly, so all that passes between them is a courteous nod of acknowledgement, while under the table, Marisa parts her legs and waits for Stelmaria to crawl to her. The snow leopard bows her lovely head and crouches; she licks the shoe, and then the ankle, and her rough tongue sends a ladder run shooting up the stocking. Her mouth hangs slightly open, huffing humid breath on the spread knees, and Asriel cannot smell what his dæmon does but her response affects him just the same. His cock is stirring and he clears his throat to conceal a quiet moan. His head is swimming from the sensation of foreign skin upon his soul. He feels the obscene and tender thrill of heat flooding his marrow as Stelmaria tastes Marisa’s naked thigh.

Purring, she prods at the woman’s silk drawers, discovering the topography of her with a cold nose pressed into the diamond patch of gusset. Asriel’s instincts are telling her to plunge into the task with all her heart, but her leopard’s tongue is a harsh rasp, meant for stripping flesh away from bone, and she knows she must restrain herself so as not to hurt. She laps delicately, and Asriel is transfixed, his mouth propped on his knuckles as if deep in thought. Stelmaria has never before touched a woman like this, has never even thought of it—it’s forbidden, an affront to common decency—but she shares Asriel’s mind, so she knows from experience how the thing is done. And once the fabric is wetted and clinging like a second skin, she can suck, between her small incisors as kittens do, and flick at what she sucks with her tongue-tip, and her sense of smell, much finer than a man’s, makes her aware that what she does is working. Marisa slouches in her chair, hiking some tight foundation garment up her hips, inviting Stelmaria deeper. The monkey, as usual, is pacing, his tail erect, thinking that the three of them are mad.

Briefly Stelmaria had wondered whether she would recognize the moment when it came, but the taste of the woman has changed into something reckless, and the pace of her breathing is different too, and her gently-rocking hips freeze in place, and she knows the avalanche she has built is at last collapsing. Asriel pushes his fist into his lips and watches across the table as Marisa crumbles. All the time her impossible eyes are trained on him desperately, as if he has any more control in this moment than she does.

“Will there be anything else, my lord?”

A servant stands over his shoulder, ready to clear Asriel’s long-abandoned plates.

“No, that’s all,” he answers gruffly, and then, for the sake of appearances, he adds, “Are you enjoying your book, Mrs. Coulter?”

Marisa looks wild-eyed for a moment before she remembers the volume pressed open between her hands. “Yes,” she says, and then swallows. “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed any book more.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in response to a prompt from an anonymous tumblr user: "I would really love to see a Masriel fic with the hdm equivalent of remote vibrator in public/daemon play under the table." 
> 
> Send a tumblr ask with a prompt to @torrefaction-of-silver and I might write you a mini-fic!


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